Badasses Stick Together
by OfTinMenAndPaperHearts
Summary: Dot gets Overkill to train her in exchange for her bringing him back to life. He finds out she used to be a Straight Shooter fangirl. Fluffy fun for the Amazon prime series. T but language matches what's used in the show. WIP; not updated regularly.
1. The Former Fangirl

**Loved this pairing so much that as soon as I finished season one, I looked for fanfics (because omg, these characters. Their chemistry is both intense and hilarious, with that little dash of adorability) and found none. Not just for the pairing, but there weren't any for this show at all! There wasn't even a _section_ for The Tick. ****For real, I had to email fanfiction Support to get the category made.**

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Dot marched onto the boat with confidence, not even slowing as she approached the very solid metal door. She knew it would open for her automatically, just as she knew Overkill would be inside, either cleaning his guns, reviewing footage of the days fights to nag them over, or doing something else aggressively macho all alone.

 _Did it count as 'alone' if the boat was AI?_

 _Eh._ What did it matter? Either way, that boat was where he hid from human connection. They had invited him for drinks to celebrate their victory; even if he was bummed that he hadn't gotten his own bloody revenge on the Terror, Overkill _knew_ it was a win.

The drinks, provided by a man named Goat who seemed to be part of Arthur's extended team somehow, were even taking place at her brother's weirdly-clean yet busted-up apartment instead of a bar so no one's secret identities would be blown. Dot had stupidly _waited_ at Arthur's just expecting Overkill to show up, but no; of course he would be an over-sized, crazy-hot, anti-social baby about it, same as he was about anything involving actual human contact.

When Goat had come by with the booze, she'd drunk a small cup of the Nigerian alcohol whose name she couldn't quite pronounce – whatever it was called, Tick thought it was hilarious _–_ before she looked at the clock, and, deciding enough was enough, marched out in a huff. If he wouldn't come by his own free will, she'd drag him here if she had to.

The drink hadn't hit her yet in the apartment, but even the small amount of the drink she'd had managed to hit Dot surprisingly hard in the Uber. She wasn't drunk, but she definitely had a buzz. Dot wondered if she should turn back, a slight flush on her cheeks as the alcohol warmed her skin. He was the only person who recognized her badassery, after all. And as an insane badass himself, that meant something. She didn't want to ruin it by saying something stupid while she was tipsy.

But any hesitance she'd felt had disappeared as soon as she saw that boat from the window of her Uber. Anger renewed, Dot strode onto the ship like it was her own, calling out as she walked to the door for Dangerboat to let her yell at the man in silence. It— _he?_ She hadn't spent much time onboard, but the AI's voice sounded male—agreed, then the door opened, and she barely kept herself from stumbling as she froze. Overkill quickly hid the gun behind his back, but the wall panel was still drawn back, the memorabilia inside on well-lit display. Dot blinked.

"...Fuck." Overkill put the bright blue gun back in the display and shut the panel that concealed it.

Her mouth was hanging open. Dot worked her jaw, trying to make words come out, but they didn't. She must look like an idiot, but she didn't care. Overkill was _Straight Shooter_. Her chest rose and fell heavier than normal as her body tried to make her breathing less shallow. Finally, she formed the words, "Ho-o-ly-y sh-h-i-i-t," her voice coming out in a strange staccato as a weird, excited giggle threatened to break free.

Still standing with his back to Dot, Overkill's shoulders sank. "So." He turned slowly to face her, "Now you know." His bright, robotic eyes steadily met hers.

Shock (and booze) still buzzing through her veins, and desperately needing to keep that fangirl giggle from escaping, Dot blurted out in a burst, "I didn't have a photo of you above my bed growing up, why would you think that?"

The rest of his face stock-still, Overkill's eyebrows quirked ever so slightly upward.

Dot felt her eyes widen but refused to open her mouth and try to back out of the statement. Speaking right now would not end well. Discovering her fourteen-year-old self's uber-crush was one and the same with the man for whom she'd been feeling a burgeoning, reluctant attraction had sent shock humming through her body, interacting with the buzz from the alcohol in an enjoyable, _troublesome_ way.

Dot refused to let her eyes wander and show her embarrassment, meeting his gaze squarely, almost as a challenge.

 _Would he dare comment on that outburst?_

Thankfully not.

"Why are you here?" He asked gruffly, as always.

She smiled cooly, her composure restored now they'd elected to ignore her awkward drunken outburst. "It's customary to attend events you were invited to, or to at least _say_ you won't be coming." Dot grimaced. "You _died_ today; you _should_ be in a hospital. For all any of us knew, you could be dead!"

"I wouldn't be—"

" _Of course_ you weren't dead," she interrupted him, her anger returning full-force. "But is it so difficult for you to imagine that people might worry?!"

She huffed at his blank look. Of course it was. "Well, generally that's what people do for the people they fight monsters with. Look, it's just going to be the people who've helped with the Terror getting together, being glad that it's over, and drinking." She noticed his look, "Or not drinking, whatever." Was he so guarded that he refused to drink around other people? Probably. Dude had issues.

And not _just_ about the lightning chick.

...Though a lot of them definitely were.

"Besides, Arthur's still reluctant to have me in the group; it'll be nice to have someone else backing me up." Dot looked up, "Uh, Danger...boat, I don't really know how you work, but maybe if you call Overkill's phone, we can put you on speaker?"

"That would be wonderful! And I do hope us working together isn't over completely," the boat replied, a smile in its voice. "Now go, Overkill, celebrate Arthur's—and your—victory! Eat something other than Fo-Ham, for once."

The overly critical tone of the last part made Dot smile. At least she wasn't the only one who worried about him.

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 **If I continue this story, it will probably just be one or two more chapters (I have an annoying little plotbunny for a follow-up chapter, but I had to wait a bit for the category to get made and I don't if it's strong enough to follow through on it.)**

 **The whole thing with Dangerboat makes me really uncomfortable (it would have been cute and fun if the shower thing hadn't happened, but now it's just disturbing) but I do like his relationship with Dot, and with Overkill. Plus, Overkill lives there so I can't not write him a little.**

 **Having just finished the newly-aired second half of the season, I needed some Doverkill/Estedot/Overthy feels so bad that I wrote this all in the same afternoon.**

 **It's weird, but I like 'Estedot' for the pairing. For one thing, the Tick forbade Overkill from killing, so dude's gonna need a new name, and Straight Shooter doesn't work anymore, so why not his real one–unless he lied to Lint when he said it was Esteban but he went by 'Straight Shooter', so it's unlikely.** **And in Spanish, este means 'this,' and for some reason, 'this dot' as their ship name makes me think of OUAT, when Snow's heart has that black spot on it after what she did to Cora — Dot is good with injuries, she can heal that boy's dark heart.**

 **Overthy probably works better, but no one calls her Dorothy. Suggestions?**


	2. The Agreement

**Is it just me, or does anyone else feel like Overkill would have a hard time calling her Dot, even in his head? It seems oddly too familiar for him. Did he ever even address her directly in the show?**

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 **Chapter 2: The Agreement**

In the Uber on the way to Arthur's apartment, Overkill kept trying to surreptitiously look at his reflection in the darkened windows. He stopped when he thought the girl-Everest had caught him doing it.

It was odd; knowing she'd once been as full of admiration for the Five as her brother had been. She seemed more grounded than that. Though maybe her admiration, like many young girls back then, had been more directed.

The youngest of the Five (excluding Midnight. Obviously. He was the mascot.), at nineteen, with his honest, good-values image, and his admittedly-handsome face more visible than the others' under his mask, Straight Shooter had been quite the draw for teenaged fans. Dot was far from the only girl who'd had posters of him plastered on their bedroom walls. He'd been regularly mobbed, like the member of a boyband, by crowds of screaming teenagers professing their love for him. Back then he'd just laughed it off, thinking it would last forever.

Or at least until he was old.

But then the Terror murdered his only family; using information Janet had gotten from _him_ , and left him, broken, to live with it.

When AEGIS rebuilt his hands and eyes, the first time he'd seen his scar-covered face in a mirror, he'd thought, 'Good.' He deserved it. He knew that. But even now, he was never quite comfortable when people looked at his face. _She'd_ never flinched at it, but that old, moronic vanity of his still taunted him.

Fuck it.

"So, if you were…" Dot pulled him out of his stupid reverie, her eyes flicking to the driver before she continued, " _him_ , then what's your actual name?"

Hmph. She must not have heard Janet at the power station. Good.

"Overkill _is_ my real name. I don't go by any other." She sent him a Look.

"Well, you might want to start thinking one up. Arthur mentioned Tick put a moratorium on the whole killing thing."

"…Fuck," he growled. He hadn't thought of that. He glared at his knees.

After some time in silence, the older Everest spoke again, peering curiously at him. "If he gets that in exchange for saving your life, what do I get for bringing you back from the dead?"

He thought about it.

"Three life-savings."

Her eyebrows quirked. "Only three?"

"Normally, I'd only save his once, but that seems impossible."

"Still. You were _dead._ Besides, if I can save you from Ms. Lint, I can save myself—Most of the time anyway," she added.

She didn't doubt her own abilities but took into account the possibility of fiercer enemies. Good. Doubt could get you killed faster than a bullet, but overconfidence was just as dangerous. The corner of his mouth twitched. He'd make a badass out of her yet.

Her eyes narrowed as she thought. "The first life-saving, we can trade for supporting Arthur; making sure he doesn't die." Seemed reasonable. He was bound to them by his debt to the big blue idiot already. He nodded.

"The second, for training me. You already started that, so I assume it's fine." He nodded. "For the third… How about getting you to do things you don't want to do? But a bunch of them, so that it's fair."

He tensed. "Fine." She seemed adept at making him do things he didn't want to do anyway.

"Seriously?" Her immediate reaction betrayed her surprise, despite the quick fall of her mask into place.

He'd noticed she did that. Most of the time, she did have the angry chill of a badass but every so often, emotions unnecessary to kicking ass came to the surface. Usually where her brother was involved.

They would have to work on that.

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 **I may continue this at some point but likely not for a while. I might get inspiration when the season 2A comes out, but this is all I currently have planned/written.**


End file.
